


Balance

by HovercraftOfEels



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, an actual slow burn? In my story?, but i might get out of control with force ghosts as this goes on. you've been warned., but seriously. you can pry force sensitive finn from my cold dead hands., extremely angry gingers., extremely sarcastic jedi., force ghost shenanigans., force sensitive finn., it's more likely than you think., look we've got two years to kill before ix so just indulge me okay., over the top brooding., stormpilotrose eventually. reylo eventually. look this is going to take some time.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HovercraftOfEels/pseuds/HovercraftOfEels
Summary: Set two months after The Last Jedi, the galaxy finds itself torn apart by conflict, as the First Order begins to splinter thanks to the machinations of Hux and the subterfuge of the Resistance. Kylo Ren knows he's chosen the wrong path, but has no idea how to get back on the right one.Luckily, there are long forgotten heroes here to help.





	1. Hello There.

The new flagship is never silent, not even in the new Supreme Leader’s chambers, far into the night cycle when most of the Order asleep and the ones who aren’t stand on watch, unmoving, silent.  There is the hum of the engines, the buzz of the life support, but Kylo tunes it all out as much as he is able, which by this point is more rote than anything else.  

The past weeks (months?) had been heavy on his shoulders. In his dreams, he could still hear Rey quietly saying his name, the fear and disappointment in him coming off her in waves so visceral that even now he could _feel_ it as clearly as he felt the recycled air, the fine silk robe around his shoulders after his evening bath. Luxury had never been afforded to him, even as the Commander of the Knights of Ren, so now as Supreme Leader he grabbed it with both hands.  It was something, anyway.  Something new, or at least something remembered.  His childhood had been soft, in many ways.  It was almost funny how he had forgotten that.

Killing the past had seemed possible, once upon a time. It now seemed as foolish as anything else he’d said in the throne room.

Snoke had been right about one thing; Kylo Ren was split down to his very soul.  Even his memory seemed to be sundered in two and the reality was lost to him at this point.  Han Solo was dead at his hand, Leia Organa was hidden away in the Outer Rim, just out of reach, and Luke Skywalker had entered the Force.  What was left of his past was fragments, and as intensely as he pleaded with Rey to kill the past and leave it behind, he found now that he himself was and likely always would be shackled to it.  Kylo Ren had never been more than a mask he had worn, forced upon him by Snoke who had tried to shape him into a weapon for the man’s twisted ends.

Now, he barely knew who he even was.

He sat, stone-faced in newly gathered luxury around a frame that felt older than thirty.  No name fit him, not even the latest title he had grasped for himself, power that had seemed vital enough to throw away the only person he had ever –

No, that was a foolish thought to chase in these few moments of silence. It always ended in the same place, silently staring at the wall, willing himself to change a past that was long out of reach.

There was a part of him hoping to feel that snap of the Force, to have the connection between he and Rey still active.  Snoke had claimed to have manipulated it, but he couldn’t have been the source, not when it still happened after his death.  Maybe it was stupid, blind hope, but it was all he had.

What he didn’t expect the strange frisson of the Force, the sharp scent of ozone, the ghostly figure sitting in the middle of his room as though he owned it. The man seemed amused, almost.

_‘Hello there._ ’

He didn’t recognize the face; Leia never had anything to show Ben (Kylo, his name was Kylo now, it wasn’t Ben, no matter what Rey had insisted.)  His namesake.  _Her only hope_.  The memory tasted like ash in his mouth, and he pushed it aside, almost violently. The ghost offered no name, but there was still something in the way the man sat and looked at him making it utterly clear that this was Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man once named Ben who had first taught his uncle the ways of the Force.

The rage that filled him was almost reflexive, immediate, and Kylo turned away. “I have no need to speak with you, _Jedi_.” As if that title somehow was an insult. The shimmering man before him had the gall to smile, as if he was expecting something of the like. He placed his hands on his knees, looking at Kylo with eyes that still somehow held hope.

As if anyone could hold hope any longer. As if anyone had hope for him.

_‘I suppose you don’t believe that you do, but you’ll forgive an old man for trying.’_ He almost seemed amused, and that just angered Kylo more.  He had half expected his uncle to show up like this at some point, but a strange old man he’d never met yet carried the name of was a bit too much to bear.  Hux was undoubtedly plotting a coup at this very moment. The snake was careful, but Kylo knew better than to think that his General wasn’t attempting to sway the Order against the new Supreme Leader, even if he couldn’t easily prove that it had been Kylo who had struck down Snoke rather than Rey.  Couple that with the support the Resistance was brokering in the Outer Rim, and it felt as if the walls of the ship were closing in upon him, and most nights, Kylo found it hard to breathe. Tonight was no exception.

But the spirit carried on, standing up to walk towards Kylo who suddenly felt very small, even if he knew he would tower over this man if he stood. He couldn’t try, he knew that his legs would just give out on him.

_‘I was wrong, with your grandfather, you see. My methods were the same techniques that worked with me, with your uncle, but both you and Anakin are cut from a different cloth.  I made the mistake of not realizing that early enough, and then I am afraid that Luke did the same.’_  Kylo gritted his teeth, reactionary and angry at the statement, but there was a part of his sundered soul that was agreeing with it all the same.  He was not his uncle, his mother, or even his Force blind father.  How much better it might have been for them all if he had been.  That familiar ache began behind his ribs, the memory of Han Solo’s face as he plummeted off the bridge in Starkiller playing over in his head, just as it had every day since it had happened.

_‘It had happened’ made it so passive_ , he thought to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. _You mean the day you murdered your father_.  Kylo couldn’t bring himself to do the same to his mother, the woman who had survived being flung into space, the woman who remained his only link the past he had told Rey so sincerely that he must kill.  He was a liar and a fraud, because in the endless silence of the now emptied throne room, it was the last thing he wanted.

Ben Solo wanted to go home, but Kylo Ren refused to allow it.

Uninterrupted by a mental spiral that had the Knight of Ren clutching his hands into fists at his sides, the spirt of General Kenobi continued. _‘I could not help him, your grandfather. He blocked every attempt to reach him, but you – you are different, my boy. It took some time, but I will help you find the path that eluded you all your life. You and that girl who occupies your thoughts.’_ He chuckled, almost to himself. _‘I suppose in that you and your grandfather are very much alike.  At any rate, your story is not done, Ben, and your choice has not yet been made.  It lies before you, and it is high time that you get ready for it.’_

Kylo turned back around to the image of Kenobi and was about to argue only to find that the man was gone, leaving only the steady hum of the engines behind.

For the rest of the night cycle, he did his best to convince himself that the solitude suited him just fine.


	2. Shatterpoint

His eyes opened, and there she was.

Ben gasped softly in surprise, because it had been so long since he’d seen her. Her eyes closed but her mouth curved in a gentle smile as she lay next to him, her hair longer now, tumbling over the pillow. He could smell her, a gentle mix he could remember from that night where they touched, sea-water and something soft that was just _her_ and his heart ached to touch her again.

He didn’t, not feeling he had any right to.

Rey opened her eyes, staring at him with longing that he knew had to be mirrored in his own. It was impossible to think clearly, not as she raised her hand to his cheek, gently stroking the scar she had given him, and he tilted his head so he could kiss her fingers instead. It was so shocking, so intimate, Ben could hardly believe it was real. The Force had connected them again, and in her eyes, he could read forgiveness.

Love.

Promise.

He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of a saber igniting shattered the moment. Ben gasped in pain, looking at Rey with wide eyes as suddenly they weren’t in a bed at all, they were on a bridge, in Starkiller Base, and he was falling ---

Out of his bed, hitting the polished black ground with a grunt of pain as he woke up.

Ben (no, his name is Kylo) sat up gasping, holding his stomach where he could swear he still felt the saber piercing him, staring forward with hollow, sleep-red eyes, trying to remember how to breathe. His hands were shaking, his entire composure shattered because it didn’t matter that it was a dream, not yet. Not when it felt so real.

When his heart stopped pounding and his breath calmed back down, he rubbed his eyes and found the chrono, groaning softly as he could see it was still midway through the night cycle. After that nightmare (it was just a nightmare, he had to calm down) he knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep.

Pulling on a pair of trousers and a training tank, he pulled his saber to his hand and walked down to the open floor that the Knights of Ren spent hours a day in now, dueling and training and sparring with their sabers and the Force, the iron grip of Snoke released for good. Now they had nothing holding them back from their true potential. They were not friends, but allies and the only ones who knew the road which had led them here. That had made for some sort of trust, some sense of understanding.

At least, before Kylo had killed Snoke.

Before that event, he had never hidden anything from his comrades, not the pain and torment that Snoke had put him through, not even the conflict that still raged in his heart, if only because he’d never found a good way to hide that. They all struggled with it, to an extent. They were all fallen Jedi, at their core. But he was hiding something from them now, and they knew it.

The walls were closing in. Time was running out.

But he couldn’t worry about that. Not now, not when the memory of her eyes and her saber and –

He swallowed, the elevator doors closing as he realized with a start that for the first time in the weeks, he could feel Rey through the Bond, and she had been dreaming too.

+++

He was covered with sweat, the training droids pushing him much harder than he normally allowed them to. The Supreme Leader couldn’t be seen to struggle against droids, but this wasn’t even a struggle. He’d destroyed three of them already, the fourth shattered at his feet after a slashing leap.

_Not surprised you studied Vaapad. Or I’m guessing you call it Djem So._

Kylo twisted around in fury, trying to figure out where the voice that was so obviously mocking him, confronted with another shimmering figure, this one utterly unfamiliar, although he seemed just as kriffing amused as the last one to be there. The Force bowed around Kylo’s frame, a wave of pure energy snapping outward, but the ghost only chuckled lowly, shaking his head.

 _Your grandfather’s heir, that’s what you wanted, right? Closer than you think._ The man sat down, and Kylo’s eyes narrowed at the arrogance. He didn’t retract his saber.

Not that it would do any good.

The man looked up at Kylo with an intensity that would have cowed most men, but that the younger man felt like he could at least match. He didn’t sit, he glowered right back.

The Jedi didn’t seem bothered.

 _I knew your grandfather, and I’ve got to admit we didn’t exactly get along._ Kylo huffed a breath, looking around the empty hanger. There had been guards here, he had been sure of it. Yet in spite of it, he didn’t really feel threatened.

Just angry.

 _Mace Windu. If you heard about me, it’s probably nothing good, but victors write the history. Doesn’t mean they can erase what echoes in the Force, any more than you can. And that’s a lesson you’ve got to figure out pretty quick, Ben Solo_.

Kylo flinched.

Windu stood up, walking around the young man with his eyes fixed on Kylo’s, hands behind his back. Circling. Waiting him out. _You’ve got a lot bigger problem than you think you do, and you aren’t ready for it. I mean, you think that you are, but you aren’t. So let’s get started._

He stared at the shimmering figure before him, the saber igniting, ringing out through the empty hall, and before Kylo could even think, the man was charging at him. But Kylo reacted, blocking the overhead slash that this Jedi tried, and the fight began.

It was very different sort of duel than he had been used to. While droids certainly had some sense of chaos and freedom of will, Kylo had no doubt that Windu would have struck him and killed him if he let his guard down. Sure, Kylo wasn’t strictly sure that he _could_ , but he wasn’t about to risk it either.

But as the fight continued, Kylo caught himself picking up on things he’d never seen before. The Galactic Empire under Palpatine had done everything it could to erase the millennia long legacy of the Jedi, and even Luke hadn’t been able to do much besides pull together a few dusty fragments. The way that Windu fought was controlled fury, and in spite of himself, Kylo was impressed.

He’d never been exactly good at the controlled part.

Windu didn’t miss a beat, watching the younger man with understanding. It made Kylo grit his teeth. _Yeah, I didn’t think Snoke would be sitting you down and helping you figure any of this out. Let me guess, he talks a lot about your potential, your power, but isn’t real big on you developing it? Yeah, he can see the lines around you, and around the last Jedi. He knows what's coming, and is trying to prevent it.  
_

Kylo couldn’t take it anymore, and he finally snapped in reply. “He _did_ talk about my potential, but he’s dead so I wouldn’t think any of that would really matter now, would it?”

The Jedi just looked even more amused, and Kylo was close to exploding.

 _I’m just going to save us both some time and say out loud what you aren’t willing to_ , he said, already fading back into the Force, even if somehow his voice became louder, echoing in Kylo’s mind directly.

_He’s not gone, and that’s a problem you’re going to need to deal with._


	3. Training

A pattern emerges, and even if Kylo would never admit it he comes to rely on it. Sometimes it’s Windu, sometimes it’s a Nautolan who nearly takes his head off with the most elegant Shii-Cho that Kylo has ever seen. It reminds him of Luke, even if he’d never admit it. He’d always preferred that style.

Later, it’s a woman, Mirialan who fights with a ferocity that he almost can’t keep up with. It’s Soresu this time, and his old lessons flood back to him with every strike.  A human who keeps insisting on the balance of the Force almost destroys him with Shien, a Twi’lek knocks him to his feet with Ataru.

They’re training him, he realizes. Some taunt him, most just attack but it’s always intentional rather than combative, it’s designed to instruct. He loses his patience often, screaming at them to explain why they’re doing this, that they should focus on their precious last Jedi not him, although they never answer him, save Windu. He just chuckles.

 _Don’t flatter yourself, kid. You aren’t our only hope, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot easier when you’re on board._ He leans out of the way of Kylo’s frantic strike and vanishes, and the knight is left gasping and alone.

Hope. He was growing to hate that word.

There were already so many echoes from the Outer Rim, and always that word haunts him. He can hear his mother’s words, not the ones on the communications captured by his intelligence officers, but the ones she said so often when he was younger.

_I named him after my only hope._

It was bantha dung, and she had to know it. Leia Organa had hope flowing through her veins, and Ben Kenobi was just one of the people who kept the Rebellion going in a dark point, along with Jyn Erso, Luke Skywalker, Bail Organa, and a half a dozen other names that the First Order even now tried to wipe out.

He slumped in the silence, aware that the increasing time he spent alone was agitating the rest of the Knights, more than aware that Hux was readying his strike. Ben was confident he could handle whatever his erstwhile General could throw at him.

He wasn’t as certain about the Knights.

Returning to his chambers, Kylo Ren decided it was time for a drink.

+++

This had been a simple pleasure he had started allowing himself; a single glass of Corellian brandy after the day had ended. As a Padawan, he clearly hadn’t been allowed to touch any alcohol, but Snoke had the same sorts of prohibitions about – well, everything more or less. He wanted Kylo angry but firmly under his thumb.

But tonight, things had gotten a little out of control, although he couldn’t pinpoint how. An hour or so later he sat with a nearly empty bottle and a head full of memories that he had done his damnedest to never revisit. He could remember his father sitting in the corner of his mother’s apartments on _Hosnian Prime just like this. A little drunk, grinning at Leia Organa like the galaxy moved only for her while she laughed at his antics and read Ben a book._

The good memories crept in more and more now. Like whatever had kept them at bay no longer had power over him, and he could see what had become so obscured by the fog. It almost caused him pain, these revelations that his family hadn’t always distrusted him, that there had been light and joy and love in his childhood even as the Supreme Leader had done all that he could to snuff it out.

_The Supreme Leader was dead. Long live the Supreme Leader._

Ben got up to find another bottle, a little unsteady on his feet.

There was that frisson that shocked him, almost stunned that this of all moments was when it would happen. Ben turned around and there she was.

“… Rey.”

Her hair was longer now, and he was almost shocked by it. How much time had passed since the last time he saw her, closing the door on him on Crait? Ben couldn’t speak because he was almost sure the second he did he’d make an ass of himself, with or without the alcohol to help him. He stumbled slightly as he took a step to her, naturally.

She didn’t look impressed.

“I really don’t want to hear it, _Supreme Leader_ ,” she said, not mockingly but with a bite that caused him to suck in a breath, stunned at her coldness.

He shouldn’t be, but he was anyway. Ben was in no state to deal with this.

“Hear what, exactly?” he finally managed, trying to recover himself. Trying to recover the moment, even if he was almost sure it wasn’t possible. Maybe the moment wasn’t meant to be recovered. After all, he’d made his choice.

 _No, you haven’t_ , a voice whispered in his mind, one he didn’t recognize at all.

“Oh, whatever justification you have for everything you’ve done or are going to do,” Rey said with that same chill to her tone, although Ben noticed she couldn’t look him in the eye. That shouldn’t have made his heart flare like it did.

It wasn’t entirely in his control. After all, He was rather intoxicated.

Rey made a disgusted noise with her mouth that sounded just entirely too like his mother and turned away from him, making his stomach drop a little, his posture stoop as he took another step towards her. “I’m not going to give you any justification, Rey.”

There were so many things piling up on him now, the shame coming over him in waves as he let himself _feel_. His motivations had become so tangled up with the indoctrination of Snoke, day after day, year after year that even now he couldn’t quite detach himself from it.

The galaxy needed control. _Didn’t it?_ The Republic had failed. _Hadn’t it?_ It had been crystal in the Throne Room, extending his hand to her with a promise to share everything, but now it felt so hollow.

He hadn’t wanted power. He had wanted her.

Rey turned and looked at him, her eyes critical, wary. She was still angry but even in this state Ben could tell more than anything, she was hurt. Looking at Rey was like trying to stare into a star, she was so bright, but it wasn’t the Force, it was just _her_.

And he loved her. By the stars, _he loved her_ and he had been completely wrong.

Ben stared wordlessly as she seemed to grow a little restless, waiting for him to finish his thought but he really didn’t have anything to add, anything that she would want him to say but then Rey started, eyes widening a bit in understanding.

“You’re drunk.” She said it like he had just altered the fabric of reality, not understanding the weight of what he was struggling with, trying to figure out while the thoughts slipped away from him. “Ben, you’re drunk and – you’ve got to be kidding me.” She flung her hands up in expiration, a bizarre mixture of horror and amusement that would have been utterly endearing to him if he hadn’t been in the middle of an existential crisis.

“No,” he finally managed, turning and slumping into a chair as he looked up at her, so lost. Ben realized in that disjointed way that a drunk sometimes did that she had never once seen him smile. Maybe that could change some day. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “No, I’m just – I was wrong.”

Rey now was just looking at him in confusion, which even Ben had to admit was entirely fair. “Wrong about being drunk? That’s not how this works, Ben,” she managed to joke but it landed a little flat. Still, Rey took a cautious step towards his chair, utterly baffled.

“No, I was wrong. I was wrong, but I love you, Rey. I love you, and maybe it’ll – maybe it’ll be okay.”

The silence dragged on a little bit too long as Rey stared at him, the Force between them going taut, almost like it was waiting to see what happened as much as he was. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“No, Ben, you’re just drunk.” There wasn’t bitterness this time, only confusion, like she was holding back any expectation that there was a chance, any chance at all that he might come back to the light.

He looked up at her with a surprisingly clear expression, because that was enough.

“I can be both.”

She opened her mouth again to reply but then the Force snapped around them, and she was gone.

It didn’t seem possible that the universe could be this unfair, but he stood there with only the hum of the engines, the night cycle of the ship pressing in on him until it felt like he had vanished beneath it.

Ben Solo let the tears pool in his eyes, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at nothing, wishing for nothing, unable to do anything except grieve for the life he could finally admit had been stolen from him.

 _‘It’s all right_ , _Ben. I knew you’d get there,_ ’ came the voice from earlier, echoing in the room long before an unknown Jedi’s form materialized before him. He had a scar over his eye too, not as deep as Ben’s own but there was something familiar all the same. The realization hit him just as the man spoke again, just as beyond his door in the hallway, he could hear the tramp of boots.

_“But now, grandson, it’s time to go.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I am not fast.
> 
> I'll do my best to update, but yeah. Mea culpa. Please forgive me.


End file.
